Honor Thy Enemy

by Doug Farren

  Doug motioned for the Captain to enter and replied, “I know… but I’m not sure how to snap him out of it. The loss of his wife hit him pretty hard.”

  “That was eighteen months ago,” J. J. said, shaking his head. “I’ve read his dossier and I’m glad I’m not in your shoes. If our rolls were reversed I would be having serious reservations about including him on the mission. Perhaps we should insist he talk to the ship’s councilor.

  Doug shook his head. “Not yet… Let me try talking to him first.”

  J. J. shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your call. Let me know if there’s anything I might be able to do.”

  Later that evening, Ken heard the door chime sound. He was in no mood for visitors so he ignored it and continued to stare out the fake porthole into the vastness of space. The chime was repeated multiple times then was followed by the dull thud of a hard knock on the insulated door. Becoming angry at the interruption, Ken walked over to the door and thrust it open. He had to look up to see his visitor’s face. “I’m a little busy Doug. Now is not a… ”

  “This is not a social call,” Doug interrupted pushing his way into the room.

  Stricklen closed the door with a little more force than was necessary. “What do you want?” he asked with barely controlled hostility.

  “You are out of line Captain!” Doug began using his most official tone of voice. “How much have you had to drink?”

  Ken was positively seething with anger. “What the hell has… ”

  “You are addressing a senior officer Captain. Atten-Hut!” Scarboro snapped. The command was automatically obeyed and Stricklen came to attention.

  “Your actions of late are unbecoming of an individual of your rank and status. The success of this mission depends upon your being one hundred percent engaged and if you are unable to crawl out of your rum induced, self-pitying behavior I will have you thrown out of the space force and sent back to Earth where you can rot until the Chroniech reduce it to a lifeless ball of charred rock. You are an officer in the Alliance space force and I expect you to behave that way. Are we clear Captain?”

  The shock of Doug’s attack was clearly evident on Ken’s face. The only reply he could muster through his confusion was a stunned, “Yes sir.”

  “Very well. Breakfast is at oh six hundred tomorrow in the officers mess. I expect you to be there.” Scarboro spun around and on his way out the door snapped, “Dismissed!”

  At precisely 0600 the following morning, Stricklen walked into the officer’s mess. After getting an omelet and a cup of coffee he approached the table where J. J. and Scarboro were already seated. Setting his plate down, he remained standing and said, “I would like to apologize for my recent behavior. Commodore Scarboro was kind enough to set me back on track.”

  Ken took his seat next to Doug who leaned over and said in a low voice, “That was the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to do in my entire military career. I’m… ”

  “I understand Commodore,” Ken whispered back. “I will be more attentive to my duties in the future – Sir.” Ken had put a distinct emphasis on the word ‘Sir’.

  Doug looked intently at his old friend. The face that stared back at him was blank and unknown as if something inside Ken had turned to stone. Doug realized that his actions, while well intentioned, may have done more harm than good. It was clear that Ken had put their friendship on hold. Concerned and worried, Doug turned away and concentrated on his food.

  * * * * *

  Stricklen was on the Meerkat’s bridge as they approached their assigned station within the massive Almaranus orbital shipyard. It was here that ships too large to be built on the ground were assembled from the modules built on the planet below. Hundreds of starships in various stages of construction or repair orbited the planet.

  Almaranus is the fourth planet of the Tracmar star system and home to the largest spacecraft shipyard in the Alliance. Even though the planet is inhospitable to life it has a population of 1.1 billion – virtually all were involved in one way or another with the operation or support of the shipyards. This was where the final battle between the Alliance and the Chroniech had taken place.

  Most of the planet’s inhabitants supported the huge industrial complexes that dotted the surface. These factories churned out everything needed to build or service the ships in orbit and on the ground. The rest were involved in the mining of the vast deposits of minerals which supplied the factories with the raw material they needed. Almaranus is one of the most heavily industrialized planets known.

  The Meerkat had been assigned a parking spot very close to the Komodo Dragon. Ken could not take his eyes off the main viewer. The familiar shape of the Dragon, the last starship he had commanded, was sliding into view. Measuring 1,300 meters from bow to stern, it was surrounded by a dozen mobile work platforms.

  Ken’s insides were churning – he was still having a hard time believing what he was seeing. For a brief moment he felt joy and a smile actually started to form. But, just as quickly, other memories intruded; he had met his departed wife on the Dragon and suddenly the sight of his old command caused a flood of remorse and grief that threatened to overwhelm him.

  Maintaining control, Ken turned away. Doug, who had been standing behind him, took his own eyes off the main viewer and looked down at Ken. “I’d better get packing,” Ken said as he continued on past.

  Scarboro could sense the pain and depression which had descended upon Stricklen. Instead of replying, he simply nodded and went back to watching the viewer.

  Meltdown

  “Captain on the bridge!” the watch officer announced.

  Captain Francine Sheppard paused just inside the doorway to survey the bridge, her gray eyes glancing at each and every station, noting the condition of the ship. The crew called it ‘the pause’.

  The Captain was an unusual woman of Human descent. Born and raised on the Rouldian planet Amecnitonuba, her body had been sculpted by the planet’s 1.6G gravity into that of a muscular athlete. Weighing in at 86 kilos and standing 176 centimeters from her heal to the top of her head she was an impressive sight.

  She kept her dark brown hair cut to within three centimeters of her scalp. Her voice was deep for a woman and her skin deeply tanned. Many believed her to be older than her actual age of forty-three. There were rumors that she had once been a man but underneath the rough exterior she was all natural woman.

  After completing the visual survey she approached the command chair and said, “Good morning Mr. Platt. What is the current status?”

  “Final checks are being completed for departure. All fusion plants are hot. All ship systems are green.”

  “Very well Mr. Platt. I relieve you.”

  “I stand relieved.”

  With the official turnover complete, Captain Sheppard settled into the Komodo Dragon’s command chair. As she was reviewing the log from the night watch she heard the door behind her open. An unfamiliar voice asked, “Permission to enter the bridge?”

  Sheppard turned her chair ninety degrees and looked over her shoulder. Although she had never met Captain Stricklen she immediately recognized him. “Permission granted! You never need to ask permission to step onto this bridge Mr. Stricklen.”

  Having been warned by J. J., Captain Sheppard had not visited her distinguished guest as was customary. Despite all she had heard about Captain Stricklen’s legendary past she had been wondering if he would become a liability to their mission. Seeing him on the bridge could indicate that his attitude was changing.

  “Thank you Captain,” Ken replied. Although he had been aboard the Dragon for two days, this was the first time he had gotten up the nerve to visit the bridge. He took a position off to one side and took a good look around.

  The Dragon hadn’t changed much since he had left her fifteen years ago. The Hess stardrive and weapons still gave the ship the distinction of being the fastest and unarguably the most powerful ship in the Alliance for her size. Some of the other systems had been
upgraded and a few of the control consoles had been replaced with newer ones but all-in-all this was the same ship he had commanded all those years ago.

  The sight of the old bridge and the sounds of its smooth operation brought back a flood of memories. Ken listened as the various stations ran through their departure checklists. As his eyes wandered about, his mind conjured up the names of the various officers whom he had spent so much time with all those years ago. He was amazed he could still remember them.

  “Are we all set Captain Sheppard?” a familiar voice startled Ken out of his mental fog.

  Ken glanced over to see Doug Scarboro standing beside the command chair. He had been so lost in thought he had not heard the door open. Doug nodded a quick hello in Ken's direction then turned his attention back to the Captain. The two officers had barely spoken a word to each other since coming aboard.

  “Final checks are being performed as we speak,” Sheppard replied.

  “Good,” Doug said taking a sip from the steaming cup of coffee in his right hand. “I would like to leave as soon as you are ready.”

  “Aye sir.” She pressed a stud on her console causing one of the command monitor’s to spring to life. The face that appeared was that of a very dark complected black man.

  “Yes Captain?”

  This was Commander Sunga Ba Tobunga the recently appointed Dragon’s executive officer. Having only been on the ship for three months he was still learning all the nuances of the ship’s operation. The Commander heralded from a world originally colonized by a small band of Nigerians. The colony had flourished and was now a major tourist attraction for Humans and non-Humans alike.

  Tobunga’s parents had both been pure Nigerian. His skin was a deep rich chocolate brown. Standing only 163 centimeters tall he was shorter than most of the crew he oversaw. He kept his head shaved to a bare stubble with a thin mustache resting above his lip. A large scar ran from the his chin across his left cheek to the top of his ear. When asked about it he would smile and say, “a childhood accident” and then refuse to offer any additional details.

  “How long before all final checks are complete? The Commodore is anxious to leave.”

  The XO glanced off to his left then replied, “There is no reason to delay our departure any longer Captain. Drive system, life support, and stores checks are complete. We can finish the remainder as we depart.”

  “Very well. Thank you Commander.” Francine closed the connection to CIC, turned to Doug and said, “Request permission to break orbit.”

  “Granted.”

  Raising her voice a bit, the Captain said, “Coms, inform Almaranus traffic control that we wish to break orbit. Helm, as soon as you get the word from communications set course for the Kyrra fold – best possible speed.”

  Both crewmen acknowledged the order and moments later the Komodo Dragon disengaged itself from the work platforms, slowly moved away from them, and headed out into deep space. During the maneuvering of the ship, Ken had quietly exited the bridge.

  Two hours after breaking orbit the heavy cruiser engaged its alien stardrive and was quickly burning a hole in space with every bit of velocity the mighty Hess stardrive could deliver. At 11,121 times the speed of light, no other ship built by any race other than the Kyrra could have kept up with her. Even at this almost inconceivable velocity it would still take the Dragon over six days to reach their destination.

  During the voyage, Captain Sheppard made sure the crew was prepared for almost anything. Two drills a day were run at unannounced times.

  Ken kept to himself, preferring to stay in his stateroom away from the rest of the crew. Being on the Komodo Dragon seemed to bring up more bad memories than good. When he did venture out he felt as if everyone he passed was staring at him.

  Hoping that the Dragon would trigger good memories, Doug dropped in on Ken two days after leaving Almaranus. He quickly learned that his old friend’s mood had darkened even more. Unable to understand why Ken was acting the way he was, Doug sought out the ship’s councilor.

  Elizabeth Warden listened intently to the Commodore’s concerns. When he was done, she sat in thought for a moment then asked, “Do you know what his wife died from?”

  “Not specifically,” Doug replied. “Some sort of disease. My understanding is that it was incurable – something that even managed to baffle to Omel.”

  Elisabeth leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. She was a stunning woman. Her parents were native Icelanders neither of which had ever left Earth. Blond, tall, forty-six, and thin with blue eyes and a large chest, she was lusted after by every male member of the crew and envied by most of the females.

  She had been married twice but neither had lasted more than five years. She was currently single and seemed to prefer it that way. She always dressed conservatively in an attempt to reduce the unwanted advances of the males she encountered.

  “I took the liberty of looking into the circumstances surrounding her death,” she replied. “Captain Jenkins gave me a heads up before we left.”

  Doug nodded his head but said nothing. “Have you ever heard of T11-N106 or, as it has been called by the few who have seen it, Hellfire?”

  Doug shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it. Sounds very bad though.”

  Elizabeth’s face seemed to darken. “You have no idea. It is unbelievably rare. The Omel claim to have seen less than 14,000 cases throughout the entire Alliance population. Six hundred and four Humans, including Ken’s wife, are known to have contracted it. There is no cure and the cause is still under investigation. Nobody knows where it came from or how it is contracted. There are rumors that it was originally developed in an Alliance bioweapons lab.”

  “If it has the Omel baffled, then it must be very unusual.”

  “It kills in the most horrible fashion imaginable,” Elizabeth said looking off into a corner of the room. “I hope never to see it or hear of it again in my lifetime.”

  Doug leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. Staring at the floor he said, “Ken’s wife died over eighteen months ago. He seems to have gotten even more depressed after coming aboard the Komodo Dragon. Isn’t there anything we can do to bring him around?”

  “I can provide counseling for him if you can convince him to make an appointment to see me.”

  “I’ll order him to if I have to,” Doug replied.

  “I would prefer you didn’t,” Elizabeth shook her head. “For now, that could only drive him deeper into his self-imposed isolation.”

  Sitting back in his chair and throwing his arms up Doug exclaimed, “Then what are we to do? He’s a mental basket case right now. We don't need an unstable person on this mission.”

  “Captain Stricklen has to work this out for himself,” Elizabeth replied. “I don't think you realize just how horribly his wife died.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “The disease that took his wife attacks the nervous system, especially the nerves associated with pain. It usually starts with the patient feeling as if they were being poked by needles in random places. Over the course of several months the pains slowly get worse. Eventually, the pain becomes so intense the patient can no longer sleep which is usually what ends their life.”

  “Don’t pain killers work?” Doug interrupted.

  “In its early stages pain medication seems to work but the disease becomes so rampant and widespread that no medication known, even at dangerously high doses, can dull the pain in its final stages.”

  “How about a medically induced coma?”

  “Doesn’t work,” Elizabeth replied shaking her head, “The brain refuses to shut down. It’s as if the consciousness centers have been locked in the on position. Unable to sleep, the patient becomes exhausted and delirious. It is a horrible death; tormented by constant, almost intolerable pain to the very end.”

  “I had no idea,” Doug said after a moment. “Knowing Ken like I do, he would have remained strong and supportive staying by Tasha’s si
de until the end. He wouldn’t have let her see how much her pain was affecting him.”

  Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement. “And he has yet to let the walls he built back then come down. You would make a fine councilor Commodore.”

  Scarboro left the councilor's office with a heavy heart. He knew his friend carried a memory within him that nobody should have to bear. Forcing Ken to talk about it would only drive him deeper into his shell. Elizabeth was right – this was something Ken would have to work out for himself.

  Ken’s rum had run out while on the Meerkat. He had transferred directly to the Komodo Dragon and nobody seemed to be able to come up with so much as a single bottle for him. He had suspicions that Doug had somehow ordered the entire crew not to provide him with any.

  Sleep was something he used to welcome as a friend but now the memories triggered by being on the Dragon caused him to fear it. When he could no longer stay awake he would drift off into sleep only to be awakened within a short period of time by nightmares of Tasha’s pain-racked suffering in her final days.

  When the nightmare hit, as it inevitably did, he would be jerked awake. Many times he would find himself clutching his pillow. Other times he would lay awake in the darkness feeling totally alone in the universe. After two nights of trying to sleep, Ken gave up and took to wandering the quiet halls of the ship.

  Rumors circulated fast and soon the crew were talking about the hero who was slowly losing his mind. On the rare occasion when Ken encountered a crew member they would stare at him; some with pity, most with disgust, and only a very few with compassion. Nobody tried to talk to him. The ship's councilor heard about his midnight walk-abouts and informed the Captain and Commodore Scarboro that it was a sign that something would break soon.

  On the night of the fourth day of their journey, exhausted from too little sleep and depressed from the memories that would not leave him alone, Ken found himself standing in front of the door leading to Tasha’s old stateroom. He could not remember walking there and he had no idea how long he had been standing there. He turned to leave but found that he could not. It was as if some invisible force was keeping him rooted in place.